Conundrum
by She-Ra Princess of Power
Summary: TEF. A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem a dilemma. Updated 10082007 with chapter six!
1. Midnight Mass, the Crane Way

Prologue

**Conundrum: **aparadoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

**_December 24, 2000_**

_"Should you choose to take Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald as your bride, the consequences may prove to be lethal."_

The words echoed through his mind as he opened the door to the church, pushing his way through the crowd gathered for midnight mass. Several people called out Christmas greetings to him, but he ignored their well wishings.

Tonight was not one of celebration.

_"You may think that the Crane name has no stake in your happiness Ethan, but ponder this: you now know that you are not a Crane by blood. Just like your mother, who is only a Crane by marriage. By making the incorrect choice tonight, your mother, who herself has made several incorrect choices in her lifetime, will be out on the street. Not a penny to her name. Not a coat on her back. Just think, Ethan, you could be the one to save her from that fate."_

Over the Hallelujah chorus, he could hear the church bell ring three times, signaling the start of the mass. His eyes roamed the pews, searching for her.

_"Now then, Ethan, another consequence for you to chew on: Sam Bennett, Harmony's heralded Chief of Police, has a family of his own. A bright son, Noah, who is earning top marks at an Ivy League medical school. Two beautiful daughters, who haven't even had the chance to go out and experience life yet. A devoted wife, who has already had her own share of misery._

_" Picture them, Ethan. The All-American family. What would the knowledge that their father had another son out of wedlock do to that family, Ethan? Are you seeing it now? Are you finally realizing that your choices effect not just you, but all of those around you?"_

He could sense her before he saw her. As always, she drew him in. He needed to be next to her, needed to hold her.

She looked beautiful in the soft glow of the candles that lit the cathedral.

But, then again, she was always beautiful.

How was he going to do this?

_"Finally, I have one last plea for you to make the right decision. Hear me out, and then feel free to make your choice._

_"You say you love this Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald. You say that you want to marry her, Ethan. But, as I am sure you know, she brings nothing to this family. No name. No lineage. In essence, she is nothing but a serious thorn in my side._

_"I do not like thorns, Ethan. I do not like anything or anyone that could be considered 'problematic'. As you leave tonight, please remember that. And also remember that I have ways of making all of my problems… disappear."_

He walked down the aisle, came to a stop next to her. Her body became rigid as she looked up at him, her eyes holding so much hope.

So much love.

She opened her mouth as to say something, but he quickly cut her off.

If he didn't do this now, then there was a great chance that he never would.

"Theresa, I want you to know…"

Kneeling down next to her, he reached for her hand, but she yanked it out of his grasp.

Her eyes were no longer hopeful. All he could see was hurt.

"I never meant for any of this to happen. And I am so sorry for what I am about to do."

The second he left her side, he felt cold. Alone.

His mind on autopilot, he walked across the aisle to the pew where another woman sat, patiently waiting. He stopped before her.

Took her hand in his.

Dropped to one knee.

Asked the question mechanically, void of any emotion.

Tried to ignore the satisfied glare she shot in Theresa's direction.

Couldn't ignore the pain that ripped through his being as she accepted his proposal.

He had made the correct choice, but he somehow knew that he had ended up the loser.


	2. A Lesson in History

Chapter One

**Conundrum:**a paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

**_Present Day_**

The tiny fishing village of Harmony, Maine was well known for two things: it's fresh Maine Lobster, caught right off her coast, and it's exquisite sunsets, of which many a sonnet had been based. Tourists flocked from all parts of the world from late spring to early autumn to enjoy an early evening supper at one of the several seafood restaurants that sat on the bay and pier, and to watch, mesmerized, as the sun made it's final descent into the gentle waves.

The sunset on that particular late June night was nothing short of spectacular, even by Harmony standards. Hues of crimson, burnt orange, pale violet painted the sky, all merging together as twilight slowly crept in. From the southeast, cumulonimbus clouds were building, coming closer, adding a touch of darkness to an otherwise stunning evening.

Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald saw none of this, which was unfortunate, as she loved to watch a big storm brewing. She knew all about weather, could spend hours studying cloud forms and tide levels and barometric readings. She had actually considered studying meteorology as her major in college, but had decided against it in favor of a double major in business and hospitality.

Which brings us to why Theresa was missing the beauty of the thunderstorm building at sea. She was sitting on a couch in the Book Café, sipping a glass of peach ice tea, poring over legal documents pertaining to her venture into the Bed and Breakfast industry and awaiting the arrival of her "real estate agent".

She was moments away from making her first purchase as a businesswoman. After nearly a year of pondering what she was going to do after college, she had woken up one morning and realized that she wanted to run her own Bed and Breakfast. The idea nagged at her for a few days before she came to the conclusion, _this is it! This is what I am meant to do with my life!_

Where she wanted to open it, she wasn't sure, but had spent months researching every nook and cranny of the industry; costs, assets, needs, everything down as to what type of linens to put on the beds and what type of coffee to stock in the cupboards. Those months of research led to her writing her Senior thesis on the topic, and her Senior thesis led to her writing a business proposal for (potential) interested investors.

The location was her only problem. She had chosen to attend a small liberal arts college in Taos, New Mexico, but she wasn't so sure that was where she wanted to make her permanent home. She loved the cool summer nights and the Christmas breaks spent skiing. She adored the laid back culture, the warm people, the ethnic cooking, the southwest art and architecture…she loved everything and everyone in Taos.

But it wasn't Harmony.

In the midst of her Junior year at the College of the Rocky Mountains, she started to have pangs of homesickness. The sultry sea air was beckoning her, slowly at first, and then, in a torrent of long forgotten memories, her childhood began rushing back…

Late night strolls on the boardwalk, eating funnel cakes and drinking pink lemonade…

The first dip in the ocean at the start of summer, running alongside her best friend, Whitney, full speed ahead, into the breaking waves, shrieking as the icy water splashed over them, sending them into hysterics as they dashed back out for the warmth of the sand…

The indescribable aroma of cotton candy, freshly dipped candied apples, and sweet kettle corn, blending together, it's own unique scent, wafting over the park on Founder's Day…

Warm mugs of spiced apple cider warming her chilly hands as she and her brothers huddled together on the front porch, watching the first November snow lightly powder the earth…

Late nights after Christmas Eve Mass, curled up next to her brother Luis on the old fraying couch, the dying embers in the fireplace flickering as Mama recited to them old Spanish Christmas fables passed down to her from her own Mama…

Harmony was home. After years of denying the simplistic joys of her youth, the small town charms were calling her back…

And she couldn't resist.

Two months before she was to graduate, Theresa started calling up old contacts in Harmony, requesting information on the current real estate market. It was Grace Bennett, an old friend of the family (and the owner of Harmony's most lauded Bed and Breakfast) who sent Theresa the information on 162 Tidal Cove. As Theresa read over the letter and accompanying flier, excitement started to build in her.

She had found it.

162 Tidal Cove was a two-story Cape Cod style home. Built in 1856, it had four bedrooms, three baths, and a wrap around porch, and it was exactly what she had imagined her Bed and Breakfast to look like. The home was nestled on a wooded stretch of beach, overlooking the Atlantic, with a planked walkway that took you past the pine trees, beyond the sand dunes, straight to the oceanfront. It also had not one, but two kitchens (one with an adorable breakfast nook), a cozy den with floor to ceiling book shelves and stone fireplace, and a dining room which, in the photo, looked both impressive yet homey.

Her favorite feature by far, the one that kept drawing her in as she debated each house that had been sent her way, was a widow's walk that could be reached only from the master bedroom. It faced the ocean, and Theresa couldn't shake the image of herself perched up there at the start of a summer storm, watching the waves crash into the breakers, lightening crackling over the ocean.

Of course, she wasn't without trepidation. Her main concern, after reading through the information Mrs. Bennett had provided, was a short sentence towards the end of the description of the house. The flier promised that the house was "a quaint, cozy, fix-me-upper", which, reading between the lines, Theresa could only assume that a major makeover was in order.

But, Theresa wasn't going to let major renovations stand in her way. After serious deliberation, Theresa decided to call the man selling the house, a Mr. Nicholas Foxworth, and see about the asking price.

She was surprised when a young man answered the phone.

"Fox here," was his way of greeting. Theresa had almost burst into giggles, because he sounded so… silly, not at all what she was expecting.

She went on to introduce herself, to explain her situation and ideas, and to ask about the cost of the home. Mr. Foxworth was very accommodating at answering her questions, and seemed almost, well, I flirtatious /i in conversation.

When she finally brought up the cost of the home, she about fell out of her chair at his response.

It was almost like she was meant to have the house at 162 Tidal Cove. The price Mr. Foxworth quoted her was more than generous; it was practically a steal! She figured, at the price that she was quoted, that the house had a bit more work than a "fix-me-upper" would require, but who was she to complain? After all, one should never kick a gift horse in the mouth.

After that first conversation, everything started to fall into place. Mrs. Bennett put Theresa into contact with the investor who had helped her open her own Bed and Breakfast, Mr. Walton Updike. Mr. Updike liked the business proposal Theresa sent his way, and little negotiations were needed between the two.

And then there was Mr. Nicholas Foxworth. Over the past few months, she had started to look forward to their weekly chats. He had promised her that the house was not "a heap of junk" as she assumed, but rather, a piece of property that he bought as an investment that he really had no use for.

With each conversation, Theresa found herself enjoying Mr. Foxworth's laughter and banter more and more, and soon she was anticipating their first personal encounter as much as she was her return to Harmony. In Mr. Foxworth, Theresa had found a confidante and supporter. Talking with him, her nervousness about returning home and starting her own business slowly began to eke away. In fact, her last week in New Mexico was one of anticipation and excitement as she packed up her belongings and prepared to turn the page on her current life to begin yet a new chapter.

On the phone, Mr. Foxworth sounded warm and unassuming. His voice was one of humor, and held the slightest bit of an accent that suggested an upbringing in old New England money.

Theresa was glad that Mr. Foxworth seemed on the level. Harmony had changed quite a bit since she left, and she was grateful for the helping hand he was extending.

In the years that she had been gone, her Mama had left Harmony to return to her native Spain. Her younger brother, Miguel, had married his high school sweetheart, Charity, and they had moved to Boston to attend college. Her childhood best friend Whitney Russell had become engaged to Chad Harris, and they were planning on an early fall wedding. Her older brother, Luis, had married Sheridan Crane…

And that's where the demons of her past started to haunt her.

In New Mexico, about a year after she arrived, Theresa had started to see a psychologist. She wasn't crazy or insane or having strange hallucinations or anything of the sort. She was, however, depressed. In the span of a year, she had fallen in love, been loved in return, had her heart basically stomped on, and moved cross-country to start a new life. She was twenty years old and had no clue as to whom she was or where she was going.

She had a lot on her plate.

Slowly, painfully, she had been able to come to terms with Ethan Crane and the misery he had caused her. On occasion, though, she still thought of him, but it was more of a fleeting thought, a whisper in the wind.

The last thing she had heard about him was that he and his wife had moved to Las Angeles. Whitney had told her that Ethan had been named the CEO of Crane Industry's West Coast endeavors and was living the "high life" somewhere in Beverly Hills.

Which made the decision to return home to Harmony all the easier. Without Ethan there, she would be able to grow and prosper, and not come face to face with _what could have been_ all of the time…

Theresa set the papers she was studying down on the table in front of her, rubbing her eyes as she picked up her peach tea. She was growing tired of all of the documents and paperwork regarding her Bed and Breakfast; she was ready to see her house and get started on the more "exciting" part of the business.

The door chimes to the Book Café jingled, and Theresa looked up to see who was coming in. Taking in his tousled blonde hair and casual dress of faded jeans, wrinkled white button down, and flip flops, she was about to dismiss him as just another person about town. But she caught sight of his brief case, and suddenly, she knew.

It was Mr. Foxworth.

He barely glanced around the room before catching her eye. His face lit up as he strode towards her, sending out a vibe that could only be described as electric.

"Theresa? Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

He didn't bother to wait for her response. He plopped down next to her on the couch, set his briefcase on the floor, stuck out his hand.

Timidly, Theresa held out her hand for him to grasp.

"Mr. Foxworth?"

He shook off her formal greeting with a wave of his hand.

"Please, call me Fox."

He was everything that Theresa had imagined. Cool and collected, refined yet enigmatic.

"So…Fox. Can I see my house?"

Fox didn't reply. He bent down to his brief case, shuffled about in it.

"Here."

He took her hand, turned it over, and placed a gleaming silver key in her palm. Theresa's heart nearly skipped a beat when she felt the cool metal against her skin.

She had promised herself, almost five years ago on a cold Christmas morning, that she was going to leave Harmony for good.

The only way she would ever return was if she had made something of herself.

Tonight, sitting next to Nicholas Foxworth, her fingers clasping that silver key he had given to her, she came to a realization.

She had made something of herself.

And there was no turning back.


	3. Right versus Easy

**Conundrum:** A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

Chapter Two

Twilight was closing in as Theresa and Fox pulled into the driveway at 162 Tidal Cove. The ominous thunderheads were edging closer over the Atlantic, occasional bolts of lightening illuminating the plum-hued sky.

Settled in the passengers' seat of Fox's Jeep, Theresa's eyes were fixed on the storm at sea, not on the house. Fox had taken the top off, and a large gust of wind whipped in the Jeep, taking Theresa by surprise, causing a shiver of giddiness to tingle her skin.

"Beautiful," she murmured.

"She _is _a beauty," Fox agreed proudly, pulling the Jeep to a stop in front of the garage. "The wood is genuine Maine Pine, right from these very woods. And-"

Her abashed laugh cut him off. "I meant the storm approaching. It's going to be quite amazing. I mean, look at the clouds! See how the lightening is staying within the cloud cover? And..."

Theresa stopped short when she saw the look of disbelief on Fox's face.

"Sorry...storms excite me."

Her tone was apologetic, but Fox still let out a derisive snort. "I forgot. You are quite the weather aficionado, reveling in all things related to…the _weather_. Wow. You do realize, Theresa that officially, this qualifies you as a dork?"

Theresa's mouth dropped open in mock surprise. In the semi-darkness, her eyes glittered with humor.

"A _dork_? You are calling me a _dork_? Seriously, I haven't been called that in years! I think I was eight..."

The girlish smile toying on her lips proved her to be anything but.

"Yup, you are a dork. A pocket protector wearing, Star Trek watching, calculus loving _dork_."

Fox himself seemed to be having a hard time keeping a poker face.

"Hey, now, Star Trek is a good show," Theresa protested with a laugh, pushing open the passenger side door. "And what's wrong with liking calculus? Means I'm smart..."

She stepped down onto the brick driveway, grabbed the manila file folder that housed all of her B&B paperwork, and slammed the door shut. Fox walked around to her side of the vehicle and offered his arm to her. For a moment, she stared at it like she had no clue as to what to do with it, but then, gingerly she wound her own arm through his.

In the almost night sky, the blush that rose up Fox's face went unnoticed. Lucky for him, Theresa was in her own little world.

And at that moment, Theresa's little world was one of perfection.

Standing before her, basked in the shadows of this lovely summer evening, was her new house, the majesty of it only heightened by the storm crashing in the horizon. And within her grasp she held the keys to her happiness.

For in one hand she held the documents that held proof that this wasn't all just a delicious dream.

And in the other she held the arm of a man who was helping her make this dream take form into reality.

If there was ever a moment that could be frozen in time, this was the moment Theresa would choose.

Serenity had finally found her, and she never wanted to let this feeling slip away.

So deep in her reverie, Theresa hadn't even realized that Fox had led her to the front steps, and was waiting, patiently, for her to snap to.

"Shall we go in?" That voice of his, so teasing, full of humor. In response, Theresa beamed up into his handsome face. It was time to stop the playful banter.

It was time to get down to business.

* * *

_"We all have choices to make in life Ethan. And making that choice is really quite simple. You have only two choices: you can choose what's easy for you, or you can choose what's right..."_

_Her words were soft in the crisp night air, puffs of steam trailing her breath in the frigid winter air._

_But her meaning was anything but soft._

_"You made your choice, Ethan. You chose Gwen."_

_He knew by her tone she did not understand. It was hard, brittle. Never before had he heard her use this tone with him._

_But then again, could he blame her?_

_Could he expect her to understand that of which he himself did not fully comprehend?_

_Oh, what he would do to embrace her, to wipe the disappointment from her eyes..._

_But he could not._

_He loved her too much._

_"You are right, Theresa. I did make my choice. And I did choose Gwen. But for all your notions of right versus easy, I just want you to know..."_

_His words were quick, frantic. He had to say this and end things between them for good._

_"I made the right choice, Theresa. Choosing Gwen... she is the right choice for me. And I pray to God that someday, you understand this...that I also made this choice for you."_

_Finally, she looked up at him. And when her glowing brown eyes, sparkling with tears in the moonlight, met his, he knew he was making the right decision._

_One last time he allowed himself access to her eyes. Disappointment was melting away to confusion. She took one step closer to him, her hand reaching out for his..._

_And he turned from her and walked away. _

At night, she came to him.

Most nights she stayed away, letting him rest in peace...

But other nights, like tonight, she returned, her eyes blazing into his, so close to him he could almost touch her, embrace her...smell her sweet scent.

The nights that Theresa returned, Ethan did not get much sleep.

Some nights her return was pleasant...a stolen kiss on the wharf...a bubble fight in her mother's kitchen, shrieks of laughter echoing through his head...a slow dance in Bermuda, the warm sultry air a whisper against his cheek...

Lately her visits were more frequent, and not quite so pleasant. Lately she seemed bound and determined to bring him down, to remind him of what he had lost, and what she in turn had lost.

Nights such as this, he knew better than to fight. He knew to let her come.

With a sigh, Ethan twisted free of his bed coverings and planted his feet firmly on the ground. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his wife was still asleep, her breathing soft and easy.

She had not heard him calling out for Theresa.

Quickly he stood and quietly padded out of their bedroom into the hall to the den.

He had found several years ago that it was much easier dealing with Theresa after a stiff drink or three.

Fumbling in the dark for the light, he made his way to the dry bar. He grabbed a glass and filled it with ice, followed by a heavy hand of whiskey.

Downed it in one swallow.

Once the burning in his throat subsided, he refilled his glass and walked over to the large window overlooking the Hollywood Hills. Taking a sip, he stared down at the activity in the valley below, so far below him, but still so full of life even in the wee morning hours.

Somewhere in the distance, a car backfired. And then there was silence, marred only by the sound of ice clinking as he brought his glass to his lips.

Hollywood was quite different than Harmony, Maine.

And perhaps that was what had fueled his decision to move here with Gwen. Harmony reminded him of another time, when he was another person.

Back when he was a better man.

Theresa had made him so.

Theresa, so idealistic.

So young.

So naive.

He could hear her calling once more.

Hurriedly he finished his drink.

For as much as he suffered from her late night visits, he wouldn't trade them for the world.

Because in those sweet moments, he got to see her again, to be with her...

And remember what it was like to be in love.


	4. Tiger and the Faeries

**Conundrum: **a paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

Chapter Three

_It was the perfect winter's night, calm and cloudless, with countless stars twinkling down on her, just for her._

The stars were her fairies, watching over her, protecting her every move.

"Little Bear, did I ever tell you the story of the Trooping Faeries?"

Wide eyed with excitement, she would shake her head as Papa tucked her into her bed, pulling her quilt up beneath her chin, tight, just how she liked. His eyes gleamed down at her, catching her lie, but playing along just the same. Settling down next to his young daughter, he began.

"Who are the Faeries? 'Fallen angels who were not good enough to be saved, nor bad enough to be lost,' say the peasantry. 'The Gods of the Earth,' says the Book of Armagh. But we know the Faeries are always with us, keeper of the night. There is much evidence to prove them fallen angels. Witness the nature of the creatures, their caprice, their way of being good to the good and evil to the evil, having every charm but conscience--consistency. Beings so quickly offended that you must not speak much about them at all, and never call them anything but the 'gentry', or else daoine maithe, which in English means good people, yet so easily pleased, they will do their best to keep misfortune away from you, if you leave a little milk for them on the window-sill over night. On the whole, the popular belief tells us most about them, telling us how they fell, and yet were not lost, because their evil was wholly without malice.

"Little Bear, by being honest and true and good, the Faeries will shine down upon you and keep you out of harm's way. Can you do this, love? Can you promise me to always be true?"

"Yes, Papa, yes!" she squealed in return, smiling up at him as he stood and bent down to place a kiss atop her head.

Her Papa always spoke the truth. Papa was a very wise man, he knew all kinds of stories, and how she, Theresa, fit into each of the tales.

With a sigh of contentment, Theresa sat down on a bench beside the church, overlooking the ocean. Midnight Mass would be starting soon, but she wanted to stay here and count her Faeries and say her blessings to them.

"What are ya looking at?"

Startled, Theresa turned her attention to a boy that had plopped down next to her, uninvited, on the bench. His hair was blond and messy, his tone was teasing, but his eyes were kind.

"And you are?" Theresa replied, using a tone that belied her six years of age.

"I'm Nicky. And you're Theresa. Your parents work for mine. So, watcha looking at? I heard they were supposed to launch the shuttle tonight, which would be really cool, unless it hit Santa while he was flying around and blew him up... But I don't think that could happen, do you? 'Cause Santa never comes until we're asleep. Last year, I tried to stay up to see him, but I was younger then, only six, and I fell asleep…"

The boy was a Crane. So he wasn't a stranger. She could talk to him without fear of getting into trouble. She tried so hard to be a good girl, so her Faeries would be good to her, but trouble always seemed to find her.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she would be good, and honest, and true, just like Papa asked her to be.

"I'm not looking for a shuttle, silly. I'm looking at my Faeries."

Nicky took a moment to consider this. Then, he slowly nodded, as if he thought Theresa's reply made perfect sense to him.

"Faeries, huh? Yeah, I think I can see what you mean. The Faeries are the stars, right?"

Theresa finally smiled at him, a toothy grin with several gaping holes.

"Yes, the Faeries are the stars. My Papa says that they are up there to watch over the good people and to make the bad people miserable."

Narrowing her eyes, she quickly sized him up.

"Are you good or bad?"

Before Nicky could answer, another boy marched up to them, laughing. He was several years older than Theresa and Nicky, had blond hair that was quite neater than Nicky's, but his eyes weren't nearly as kind.

"Nicky, don't you pay attention in school? The stars are not Faeries; they're distant planets in other galaxies far away. Duh. Anyway, come on, Mother and Father are waiting for us. Grandfather is getting quite angry."

He reached down to take Nicky's hand, but Nicky slapped it away, glaring up at his brother. He stood up quickly, hands on hips, ready for battle.

"Ethan, I like her story better. Makes quite a bit more sense to me. Theresa is Martin's daughter- she knows what she's talking about. And, what about the Tooth Fairy, huh? She came to see me just last week and left me $50 for just one tooth! So, Mr. Dogbreath-Know-It-All-Escum, if the Tooth Fairy didn't come from the stars, where did she come from, huh? HUH?"

Theresa looked between the two boys in amazement.

"Nicky, I don't want to be mean, but you talk a lot." Theresa smiled up at the boy ruefully, hoping she had not hurt his feelings.

"Really? No one's ever said that before. Thanks!"

Ethan popped Nicky on the head and opened his mouth to respond, but stopped as a dark shadow fellow over them.

"Now look what you've done," Ethan muttered, yanking Nicky's hand, pulling him closer. This time, Nicky did not fight his brother.

Theresa remained seated as she gaped up at the man looming above them.

"Ethan...Nicholas...you have kept me waiting."

His voice was not pleased.

"Do tell what has kept you from joining the rest of your family in church."

Theresa looked over at the boys, cowering beneath the man's angry glare. Nicky was  
nice, and she felt that she needed to help explain what they were doing.

"Sir, we were looking at the Faeries."

Nicky looked at her beseechingly, shaking his head at her, silently pleading with her to stop.

Ever headstrong, Theresa continued, standing up to face the mean man face to face.

"The Faeries are up in the sky, Mister, watching over-"

"Little girl, please do not waste my time. Nicholas- Ethan- let's go. Now."

Grabbing a hold of each boy's wrist, he yanked them, pulling them towards the church. Nicky turned back to where Theresa stood and waved sadly. She followed a few steps behind them, catching parts of their conversation.

"She was so cool, Ethan! That's the kind of girl I wanna marry when I grow up. Smart and pretty. Like Mother."

"Nicky, you can't marry a girl like her. You are going to marry Avery Stanton. Besides, you were saying yesterday that girls are gross."

"Most girls are, Ethan. Girls like Avery and Gwen Horse-Face Hotchkiss. Those girls are icky. But Theresa was rad! I bet she could kick your butt in mud ball and teach you a thing or two about where the Tooth Fairy comes from. All in the same day."

"Boys, that's enough! Nicholas, you know that you are going to marry Avery Stanton, as Ethan will marry Gwen Hotchkiss. Girls like that half-breed trash you were talking to are a dime a dozen, Nicholas. No respect towards their elders. You better start acting like a Crane and start getting these ridiculous notions out of your diminutive brain! And don't you DARE start crying…"

Theresa stopped following them. Her eyes welled with tears as they walked into the church, and the tears were streaming down her face when her older brother Luis found her and took her into his arms just a moment later…

br

With a gasp, Theresa awoke, heart pounding. She touched her cheek and found that it was wet with tears.

She had not remembered that night in a very long while.

As her heart slowed to normal, Theresa drifted back to sleep, and by morning that night was once again forgotten.

br

Coffee. Her body was desperately craving coffee. After spending a good portion of the night tossing and turning, Theresa gave up on sleep just after dawn and stumbled from bed towards the bathroom.

Time to face the day.

She had arrived at Grace Bennett's Bed and Breakfast shortly after eleven the night before just as exhaustion was threatening to take her over. After welcoming her with a warm hug, Grace showed Theresa to her room, where the fresh towels were kept, and most importantly- how to work the coffee pot.

However, Theresa had become a creature of habit while in New Mexico, and coffee came only after her morning run.

After blindly making her way to her in-suite bathroom, Theresa brushed her teeth and examined herself in the mirror, and quickly determined this morning she looked like total crap. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks swollen and shiny. She vaguely remembered waking up in the night with tears on her face, but brushed that thought aside as she scrubbed her face clean. Her face looked much better after cleaning, and decided, against better judgment, to forgo makeup on her run. She would, after all, just sweat it off and the only thing worse than puffy eyes and swollen cheeks was raccoon eyes and streaky bronzer.

Grabbing her I-Pod and a bottle of water, Theresa quickly scribbled off a note for Grace and took off down Ridge Street, crossing over to Ocean View and towards the beach.

Growing up, Theresa had not been one for exercise; give the occasional flag football or mud ball with her brothers, and the odd tennis match with Whitney. But Theresa was quite the competitor and knew she had no chance against the three time reigning All State Singles champion. Besides, exercise made her feel all gross and sticky and she had the advantage of having the metabolism of an infant. She could eat what she wanted, when she wanted, and not gain an ounce.

Her Psychiatrist in New Mexico had been the one to suggest to Theresa that she might benefit from finding an outlet to absorb some of her abandonment issues and suggested running. Theresa had balked at first, but once she started, running became an addictive endorphin. After just a few weeks, she found herself sleeping soundly through the night with out the aide of her prescribed Xanax.

Once she hit the beach, Theresa picked up her pace. After nearly two miles, she noticed another figure up ahead of her. Tall and lean, with messy blonde spikes mussing in the breeze. She sped up slightly, only slowing down when she reached his side.

After a moment, he noticed her presence and offered her a lopsided grin as he slowed his stride to match hers.

"Morning, Tiger."

"Morning, Fox. So we've now moved past my God-given name onto yet another one from the Animal Kingdom? Nice."

Laughing, Fox pointed at himself.

"Me Fox. You Tiger. Hear you roar. Growl!"

Theresa burst into giggles as they rounded the pier.

"That was the most pathetic roar I've heard in my life. And you call yourself a man!"

"GROWL!"

His even feebler attempt at a roar caused Theresa to choke on her laughter, bringing her quick stride to a stop.

"Sorry!" she gasped, clutching her rib cage. "Stitch-In-Side."

Fox halted and grabbed her water bottle from her hands. He unscrewed the top and handed it back to her, which she accepted greedily.

"Easy, Tiger. So carrying on, great minds think alike, do they not?"

Theresa, finally catching her breath, nodded in agreement.

"Myself, I find it quite hard to begin the day without my morning run and a cup of coffee. And what do you know- we're right beside the pier. My treat?"

"Sure," she said, her voice slightly wheezy. She started towards the stairs, but Fox grasped at her arm, stopping her.

"On second thought, let's walk. I can't have you dying on me just yet. I only met you yesterday!"

br

The only other patrons inside the Book Café when Theresa and Fox arrived looked to be escapees from Harmony Hill's Nursing Home, so they had the run of the place. Fox gently steered Theresa to a plush loveseat then walked to the counter to place their order. She had just begun thumbing through a People Magazine, circa '96, when an amused chuckle from behind her startled her.

"Well if it isn't Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, as I live and breath!"

"CHAD!"

Her voice being just a decibel bellow a shriek brought the nursing home escapees to their feet, and they darted out the door without a second glance. Theresa launched herself over the loveseat and flung her arms around her old friend, clutching on to him for dear life.

With a loving squeeze, Chad released her.

"Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes! Whit was over the moon when you told her you were coming home. And here you are, in the flesh."

"I've missed you both too Chad. So much."

Chad grinned at her and pulled her in for another bear hug.

"What can I get for you, Theresa? Anything you want- it's on the house."

"Well-"

"Man, Harris, are you some kind of pimp or what? You're already engaged to the only woman in this town worth marrying, and here you are, trying to steal away her best friend. And I thought we were friends!"

Smiling, Fox plopped down on the loveseat and handed Theresa her iced coffee. Chad held out his hand for Fox, and they shook, warmly.

"Foxworth, my man, how has life been treatin' ya?"

"As fine as yesterday, Harris, but today is even better. I get to drink my coffee with a pretty lady. Always makes the morning a little more fun."

"Well, then, I better let you two get back to your coffee. Theresa- dinner tonight at our place. We won't take no for an answer. And you too, Fox- Whitney seems to think you never get to eat a home cooked meal, with you being a bachelor and all."

"Chad's great, isn't he," Fox said as Chad walked away.

"The best."

"He was the first person I met when I moved back to Harmony. Took me under his wing, showed me the ropes, helped me set up shop."

Theresa pondered this for a moment before catching on to something he had said.

"When you moved _back_ to Harmony? Did you grow up here?"

Fox took a sip of his coffee before replying.

"Boarding School brat. I spent more time at Rosemary Choate then I ever did in Harmony. But…enough about me. How's your coffee? Have you ever eaten Whitney's cooking? If I may offer you fair warning- _eat before going over there_. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Whitney means well, but the last time I ate with them she made chicken and I think she forgot to turn on the oven. Seriously. Sushi's great, and I adore a rare steak, but raw chicken- definitely not good for the digestive system."

Theresa stared at him in amusement.

"Fox, I don't want to be mean, but you talk a lot."

He looked at her then, right into her eyes. His were sweet and seeking.  
His eyes were kind.

"Really? No one's ever said that before. Thanks, Tiger! I guess I just have a lot to say to you."

With that sentiment he lifted his glass towards Theresa in a sort of mock-salute, and began to question her about her day.


	5. Casanova's Secrets

**Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for all the wonderful feedback I have received so far! Please keep reviewing, it's good for the soul, and makes for a happy writer! I hope you all enjoy:)  
**

**  
Conundrum: **a paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

Chapter Four: Casanova's Secrets

Her Junior Year of college, Theresa had been diagnosed with a mild case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. A very mild case, mind you, not anything like Jack Nicholson in _As Good As it Get. _Still, even in its mildest cases, OCD is a powerful, dangerous disease, not unlike alcoholism or drug addiction.

Theresa found having OCD was not a completely bad thing. It actually served her quite well in college, where so many of her friends were struggling to balance their studies, their jobs, their _lives_.

Not Theresa.

Compared to her stressful, disastrous life back in Harmony, she found college life to be almost relaxing. She was focused and driven. In New Mexico, she found life to be manageable. In her control. There was ample time to complete everything and anything she needed to get done, just as long as it was written down on one of her to-do lists.

Theresa had an addiction to lists. She had a list for every possible scenario: to-do today, to-do this week, to-do this year. In her opinion, there was nothing more gratifying then opening up her planner and crossing off completed items from of her lists. With each task she finished and crossed off, she was one step closer to her goal of making something of herself.

On her very first morning back in Harmony, Theresa was able to cross off not one but three items from her lists.

And obviously, that thrilled her to no end.

The first item was a given: her daily run. The second was to visit Whitney and Chad. And since she now had plans to join them for dinner that evening, she would be able to cross that off as well.

It was during her coffee with Fox after the run that she found herself mentally crossing off the third item from her list, one of the more important items: finding a competent assistant who could help Theresa with the daily tasks of setting up, and running, a B&B.

As Theresa was finishing up her coffee, a tall, strikingly pretty girl with golden blonde hair walked into the Book Café. She quickly appraised the room, her eyes lighting up when they fell on Fox. A huge, dimpled grin overtook her entire face as she sauntered over to where they were sitting.

"Foxy!" she cried, plopping down beside him on the worn arm of the loveseat. Theresa glanced between, and felt a twinge of... _something_ in her abdomen as the girl pulled Fox to her in a loose hug.

_Something _felt very similar to jealousy. _Something _was something that she had not felt in a very long time...

Fox was returning the girl's squeeze, his face absolutely beaming. "What-why..." He trailed off, laughing, and let go of the girl, turning back to Theresa.

"Tiger, I want you to meet Fancy. And Fancy, this is Tiger."

Fancy held out a slim, freshly manicured hand, and Theresa grasped it warmly, smiling up at her new acquaintance. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something vaguely familiar about Fancy. Something about her eyes...

"Hi, I'm Fancy Cr-"

"Fancy Crystal Winthrop," Fox interrupted, shooting Fancy an undecipherable glance. "A friend of mine from Rosemary Choate. We go way back."

With those words, Theresa exhaled deeply, not even realizing she had been holding her breath. Again, she felt a strange sort of deja vu with Fancy. Somewhere she had heard the name Winthrop before. Where, Theresa had no idea. She knew it would come to her, one day when she least expected it...

Fancy looked down at Fox, confusion marring her pretty features. Fox shot her once last meaningful glance before saying, "Fance, this is Theresa. Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

Recognition dawned on Fancy.

"Oh, you're Theresa? It's so great to finally meet you; I have heard so much about you!"

"Really?" Theresa asked, curious. "From whom?"

Fancy opened her mouth to reply, but Fox once again cut her off.

"From me. I told her all about our weekly long distance chats. Every time we would hang up the phone, I'd call up Fancy and tell her, _If Theresa is half as sexy as she sounds on the phone, I'm in trouble. I think I may have found myself the perfect woman_." He leaned towards Fancy, his eyes sparkling but quite serious. "Fance, I think I might be in trouble." His voice was soft and definitely not teasing.

Theresa felt her cheeks grow warm with his words. The twinge that had hit her earlier came rushing back, pleasant and warm this time.

Fancy caught her eye and laughed.

"Foxy has always been quite the charmer. He broke many of hearts at Rosemary Choate." Her words were playful, but Theresa could hear her warning loud and clear.

So Fox was somewhat of a Casanova. Disappointment flooded Theresa, although she had no idea why. Why should she be disappointed that this gorgeous, adorable specimen of a man was a heartbreaker? How could she be disappointed in Fox and the way he lived his life, as she just met him? It wasn't like she was interested in him. She shouldn't (and couldn't) be…

Perhaps she was feeling this way because of how he held himself during their marathon phone conversations. How he was sweet and funny and attentive and seemed to be genuinely interested in her and her worries and her needs. How he could send her into fits of hysterics over the silliest of comments, and how he just seemed…_perfect_.

But again, so had Ethan.

"Me, a heartbreaker? Fancy, you do exaggerate," he protested with a sigh. "And now, to abruptly change the subject, tell me- what the hell are you doing here! When did you get back? I thought you were in Milan, interning with the _fabulous_ Roberto Cavalli?"

"I was, but Milan was so _boring_. And Roberto turned out to be not so fabulous. He seriously had some bipolar action going on. But the absolute worst part about Italy was the fact that I couldn't find a decent cheeseburger there to save my life. Seriously, Milan was a waste of my time..."

Fox let a groan, rolling his eyes at his friend. "That's Fancy for you, moving half way across the world because she couldn't find a cheeseburger to suit her taste. So, then, tell me, now that you're back, what are you going to do, fulfill your dream of running the Burger Shack?"

Fancy let out a snort, smirking.

"Hardly. Have you seen those uniforms they wear there? Polyester and me do _not _get along. You know, I really hadn't thought about what I'm going to do now that I'm stateside. Hopefully, something more fun and rewarding than being Roberto Cavalli's Coffee Bitch..."

"Well, I suppose you could always call up Mummy and Daddy and ask them for some money."

Fox's statement was more of a question, and he was peering at Fancy with genuine curiosity.

"I think not, Nicholas." Fancy's voice was now cold, slightly angry. "You know better than anyone that I _don't _deal with my family. I'd rather be a bum on the street, homeless and without a penny to my name then ask those hypocrites for _anything_."

Fancy suddenly let out a laugh, breaking the tension. "See what I put up with, Theresa? Don't get too close to this one, or he'll start putting you through the ringer, too."

Theresa smiled back at Fancy, but felt a bit uneasy about the conversation. There was something she was missing, some underlying resentment between Fox and Fancy, but the thought was quickly dismissed by a sudden outburst from Fox.

"I've got it! Theresa was just telling me that she needs an assistant. She's opening up a Bed and Breakfast, and Fance, this would be _perfect_ for you! Easy hours, so you would have ample time to party. And all you'd be doing is following orders, so you wouldn't be stressing your brain out by thinking too much..."

Fox was laughing, but Theresa could tell he was completely serious. And Theresa could totally see the proposition working. In her dark rinse Chloe jeans, a fitted, short-sleeved velvet blazer, and matching Jimmy Choo pumps, Fancy exuded class and came off quite put together. Plus, her laugh was infectious, and Theresa definitely needed all the laughter she could get in her life.

However, Fancy looked a bit unsure.

"I don't know, Fox...It sounds great and all, but I'm not even sure how long I'll be staying in Harmony. I might awake one morning with the urge to move to Australia to become a surfing instructor-"

"And that would be fine." Theresa finally spoke. "I would love for you to come and work with me. And I know all about wanting to escape Harmony. I myself did it, and one day I might do it again. But life is all about the here and now, and to be perfectly honest, right here and right now, I _need _help. Please say you'll help me, _please_!" She knew she sounded desperate, but it was true. She really needed help.

Fancy let out a groan of defeat.

"Okay, okay, you've talked me into it! But be warned- one day I might be gone, and you won't know where I disappeared to for weeks. And then one day, out of the blue, you'll receive a postcard postmarked in Switzerland, detailing my elopement to some Swiss Chalet Owner."

Looking a bit smug, Fox nodded. "Well, then, that settles it. Fancy, you may be the flightiest person I know, but even _you_ would not go back to Switzerland! It took too damn long to get that disastrous marriage annulled..."

"Fox!" Fancy squealed, whacking him hard across the chest, "You were never supposed to tell-"

She was interrupted by Fox's cell phone ringing. He glanced down at it, his laughter dying away.

"If you ladies will excuse me for a moment, I've got to take this."

Still laughing, Theresa and Fancy waved him off.

"So, then, Fancy, you must tell me all about Switzerland…"

* * *

"What do you want?" Fox practically barked into the phone, pacing the sidewalk in front of the café. He wasn't going to call, had _promised_ that he wouldn't call.

"_Is she there?"_

Clenching his free hand into a fist, Fox took a deep breath to try and calm himself. It was just like him, to make a promise and then to break it.

"Yes. She got here last night, just like I told you she would. Is that all you called for, to check up on her?"

The person on the other end sighed heavily.

"_I know I promised, but I…I just have to make sure she's okay. Is she?"_

Fox stopped pacing long enough to glance into the Book Café. Theresa and Fancy were sitting on the couch where he had left them, laughing like the oldest of friends. Even without makeup and in her running clothes, Theresa was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And when she laughed…feelings that Fox hadn't felt in years washed over him, coursing through his veins, making him feel like he was the luckiest guy in the world, just being in her presence.

He had missed having those feelings.

"She's more than okay. Can we just leave it at that?"

"_Does she like the house?"_

"_Does she like the house_?" Fox mimicked angrily, his frustration starting to mount. "Of course she likes the house, you knew she would when you bought it! Look, I'm sorry to be such an ass, but you _promised _to not interfere! I did what you asked. Rather, I'm _doing_ what you asked. I'm keeping an eye on her. But you are going to ruin everything if you continue to call me. He has his ways, you know. If you keep calling me, he'll catch wind that we are in contact, and he will destroy everything again! He's done it once, and I don't think he'll have any qualms about doing it again."

Silence followed. Fox took that as his cue to end the call.

"Well, okay then, I guess I'll talk to you...sometime."

He moved to disconnect the call, but just before he pressed the end key, he heard, _"Thank you for helping me, Nicky. You're a good brother."_

And then the line went dead.


	6. Page Six of The New York Times

**Chapter Five: **_**Page Six of The New York Times**_

December 26, 2000

(as excerpted from Page Six in _The New York Times)_

_**Crane/ Hotchkiss Engagement Announced**_

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Hotchkiss of Harmony, Maine are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Gwendolyn Rebecca, to Ethan Samuel Crane. Mr. Crane is the son of Julian and Ivy Crane, also of Harmony, and the grandson of Crane Industries CEO, Alistair Crane.

Mr. Crane and Miss Hotchkiss met as children while attending the prestigious Rosemary Choate Hall in Wallingford, Connecticut. Mr. Crane graduated Summa cum laude from Harvard University in Boston, Massachusetts, with dual degrees in North American History and Business Economics. He was a member of the Alpha Tau Omega social fraternity, the starting pitcher for the Harvard baseball team his junior and senior years, captain of the Lacrosse team, and a member of the rowing team. After graduating, Mr. Crane continued his education at Harvard, completing his J.D. (Juris Doctor) degree. Mr. Crane is currently head legal representation for Crane Industries.

Miss Hotchkiss graduated Magna cum laude from Wellesley College in Wellesley, Massachusetts. A member of the Epsilon Gamma social sorority, Ms. Hotchkiss earned her degree in Business Administration. She is currently employed by Hotchkiss, Ltd.

The couple will be married on February 14, 2001 at 7 pm. The service will be held at Saint Mary's of Margaret in Harmony, Maine, with a dinner reception to follow directly at the Seascape. Mr. Crane and Miss Hotchkiss will reside in Beverly Hills, California after honeymooning in the Cayman Islands.

_The first blizzard of the season was quickly approaching New York City, but Nicholas Crane could hardly be bothered with that insignificant fact. He knew it was cold as hell outside, but Italian cashmere and pure lamb's wool stymied the chill as he walked down Central Park South towards Essex House. A light bounce was in his step, and he found himself whistling Christmas carols without a second thought._

Nicholas Foxworth Crane was happy. Blissfully happy. For the first time since he was a child, the Christmas holidays had been one of laughter and magic and joy. And it was all because of her_. Audrina Hernandez. His partner in crime, his perfect match._

His true love.

She had first caught his eye the very first day of class his freshman year at Columbia University. It was unseasonably warm out, close to 100 degrees. Most students milling College Walk looked faded and rumpled, the heat draining the life from them.

Sagging shoulders. Hair wilting. Skin clammy, and sticky to the touch.

Nicholas could still remember the humidity; the way his plaid button down clung to his body like second skin. His entire wardrobe consisted of button downs and slacks, sweaters of wool and cashmere, and he certainly stuck out amongst his peers in t-shirts and shorts.

He was definitely regretting his decision of letting his kid sisters Francesca and Priscilla pick out his fall clothing collection. Fancy and Pretty, as they liked to be called, were definitely style mongers, but apparently had no idea what one should wear in September in the City. Back in Harmony, a light chill would already be in the air, with temperatures dipping into the 30's overnight.

But New York was different. At that moment, all he wanted was to get back to his apartment, crank the air down to 60 degrees, and pour himself a tall glass of ice cold lemonade.

And once he cooled off, once the sun had begun to sink below the skyline, he would head to Barney's and stock up on shorts and t-shirts, tennis shoes and flip flops.

And then he saw her.

And his well intentioned plans were shot to hell.

He turned to make his way home, but stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on her.

It was as if the crowd parted as she walked through the promenade. Her dark, almost black, hair shimmering in the sunlight, the loose curls bouncing with every step she made. Her tanned skin a glowing contrast to her pure white sundress, which showcased every curve on her petite body. Her luminous smile as she waved to someone she recognized, dazzling and sweet at the same time.

She was a vision. A vision of perfection.

She stood out in the sea of students, as cool and crisp as they were disheveled.

Before his nerves could take over, Nicholas started towards her, swiftly, hoping to cut her off before he lost sight of her in the throng of people.

And he did.

He came to a stop before her, and she, not noticing him, rammed headfirst into him. Her backpack slid off her arm to the ground, its contents spilling out.

"Freaking A," she muttered under her breath, bending down to collect her belongings. Nicholas knelt beside her, and it was only when he handed her a beaten copy of American History- Through the Revolution_ that she seemed to notice him._

Time stood still, if only for a brief millisecond, when her warm brown eyes met his. Her lips formed a slight "O" as she looked up at him, not taking her gaze away from his.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, her voice quiet and girlish, with a slight southern twang. "I didn't see you there."

Nicholas stood silently, reaching down for hand to pull her back up. The second her skin collided with his, he knew.

She was the one.

Not letting go of her hand, not willing_ to let go of her hand, he looked down at her and smiled._

"I'm Nicholas Crane. But you can call me Nicky."

She was nearly a foot shorter than he. With her free hand, she shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.

"Nice to meet you, Nicky Crane. I'm Audrina Hernandez. But you can call me A."

And from the moment, they were inseparable.

This semester, the first semester of their junior year, he and Audrina had moved into a park view suite in the Jumeirah Essex House, which was only a few miles south of campus. In the early fall, they rode their bicycles to class, and as the temperature outside had steadily dropped throughout the semester, they had taken to riding the subway with the rest of their fellow Manhattanites.

If only his family could see him now. Nicky riding the subway! Nicky eating hotdogs and sauerkraut from local street vendors! Nicky buying knock off Versace on a street corner in the Lower West Side!

Audrina had opened his eyes to a whole new world, a world where people were honest and worked hard to achieve their dreams. She taught him to appreciate the simple joys in life, like browsing for rare LPs at a market in Greenwich Village, and riding the rickety rollercoaster at Coney Island.

Audrina had taught him about love. She took him to her parents place in Austin, Texas. Over their summer vacation in Texas, Nicky saw for the first time how a true family ought to be: loving. Supportive. Concerned.

Not once on their visit was he asked about his family and their endeavors. Not once on their visit was she belittled or mocked. Audrina's family was middle class and proud of their accomplishments.

Her family reminded him of the Lopez-Fitzgerald family back in Harmony, back when Martin was still around and their lives were so full yet simple. Before Martin had disappeared, taking that contentment with him. A family filled with a zest for life, and real love. Hell, Audrina herself reminded him of Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, his childhood crush. How long had he nurtured that crush? Ten, eleven years? Until the day he had met Audrina?

Of course, his family was far from thrilled when he told them they were moving in together. After all, Audrina's family was practically poor. Her father was a technical engineer at Dell, and her mother taught second grade at the same public school in the suburbs that Audrina had attended when she was growing up. Audrina herself was going to enroll in the Teachers College at Columbia after graduation, to get her Masters degree in Elementary Education.

Living together usually meant an engagement was on the way, and an engagement usually meant a wedding would soon follow.

How could a Crane fall in love with a pauper? How could he even consider_ moving in with a Latina who would bring nothing of value to their family when they wed?_

Although he did not confront his family then, they were forgetting one thing:

He was Nicholas Crane, not Ethan Crane.

He could have a say in his life.

He could-and would_ choose his future wife._

He could stand up to his family if he chose to do so..

After all, Ethan was the heir, next in line to inherit the Crane Empire. Nicky, as the second born son, would most likely end up working for Crane Industries, but had no claim on his family's fortune.

And in his eyes, they had no claim on him.

Luckily, he wasn't Ethan Crane, a spineless excuse of an older brother. 

Luckily, he wasn't "Perfect" Ethan Crane, with his "perfect" life, and his "perfect" ideals.

Luckily, he wasn't Ethan Crane, who couldn't make a decision to save his life.

Luckily, he wasn't Ethan Crane, the most famous bachelor in the world, with anything and everything he could ever want at his disposal.

Luckily, he wasn't Ethan Crane, the biggest idiot on the planet.

And, luckily, he wasn't Ethan Crane, who pretended to have such high morals, but thought of no one but himself when he cheated on his fiancée with the same girl his younger brother had pined for over half of his life.

After all, despite deceiving appearances, Ethan Crane was nothing but an asshole extraordinaire.

A tool.

A pawn in their Grandfather's sick, twisted little games of domination.

God, how he despised his brother.

But that was neither the here nor now. At that moment, the only thing on Nicky's mind was meeting Audrina for a late breakfast at the restaurant in Essex House, hopefully followed by a lazy afternoon that involved them not wearing a stitch of clothing and a crackling fire in the fireplace..

Life was good.

Well, life was good for approximately 10 more seconds, during which Nicholas stopped at the newsstand on the corner of his block, said good morning to Hakim the clerk, and picked up a copy of The New York Times_._

He glanced quickly over the morning's headlines, which were pretty dull by New York's standards. A 1920's town home had burned to the ground the previous evening in Brooklyn. The body of a transient male had been found near the Hudson River Christmas Morning. Someone had stolen the star that had sat atop the tree in Rockefeller Plaza all through the holidays.

And then, at the bottom, there it was. Probably the only thing that could ruin his happiness: "Crane/ Hotchkiss Engagement Announced!" (See Page Six for details, and Liz Smith's take).

His heart plummeted as he ripped through the pages, and it fell even more as he read Page Six.

Ethan had done it. He had given into Grandfather's demands.

This wasn't good.

A picture of a beaming Gwen, and an extremely startled-looking Ethan was plastered beside the announcement. Below, Liz Smith dished about the "adorable duo", and retold their history for about the gazillionth time in her column. She had a few unsavory words to say about Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, the "tart" who had broken up "Gwethan" in her pursuit of the Crane billions.

Unfortunately, the Gwethan Reunion was the best article on the page.

The worst part, by far, was found near the bottom of her column. A slightly grainy photo of himself smiling at a store employee while pointing at something in a glass case was prominently pasted above a small paragraph. For the life of himself, Nicholas couldn't think of where the photo had been taken, or why he would even be mentioned in the Page Six gossip, but a quick read-through of the story refreshed his memory.

It's a sad day here in the City for all you single girls out there. It appears that Ethan Crane isn't the only member of the illustrious Crane family who will soon be taking the dive into holy matrimony! Nicholas Crane, Ethan's kid brother and one of New York's most eligible young bachelors, was caught on film just last week browsing engagement rings at Tiffany's. Sources close to the younger Crane, who is currently in his third year at Columbia, confirm that congratulations will soon be in order for Nicholas and his lady love, Audrina Hernandez. The twosome have been linked for over two years, and are currently residing at Essex House, a move which is surely funded by the Crane family. Ms. Hernandez hails from Austin, Texas, and while there is no doubt that she is a lovely woman, we must all ask ourselves this perplexing question: will Big Daddy Alistair Crane allow this relationship to continue? And what of those persistent rumors that continually circulate about Nicky Crane being attached to the stunning Avery Stanton? Only time will tell, but let us be the first to offer wishes of much happiness!__

The paragraph closed with a much higher quality photo taken earlier in the fall at charity event at The MoMA. His arm around Audrina's shoulders, her hair barely touching his chin even in heels. Eyes only for each other, not the surrounding media.

One would be hard pressed to miss the absolute adoration the two had for each other.

"Mr. Crane, is something the matter?" Hakim suddenly asked, his heavily accented voice filled with concern.

Oh, this definitely wasn't good.

He shot Hakim a grim smile as he handed him a wad of cash to pay for the paper. Hakim tried to give him his change back, but Nicholas had already darted away, running down the sidewalk towards the hotel, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

Something was going to happen. He could feel it, down to his very core.

His grandfather read The Times_ religiously each day._

His grandfather had no idea about him and Audrina.

His grandfather was still operating under the delusion that one day, Nicholas Foxworth Crane would marry Avery Stanton, merging two of the largest shipping conglomerates in the country into one that dominated all their competition.

His grandfather would do everything in his power to ensure that the merger happened.

This so definitely wasn't good.

A feeling of dread washed over him as he strode to the front door at Essex House, ignoring the warm greeting Jimmy George, the door man, bade him as he held open the door for him.

The dread grew stronger with each step.

His grandfather was evil.

Audrina was love.

His grandfather despised love.

His breathing shallow, Nicky flung open the door to the restaurant.

And the feeling of dread was erased when he saw Audrina perched at their usual booth, gnawing her bottom lip gently as she looked over the breakfast menu.

"Hey, you," she said as he slid in beside her, pulling her into his arms, enveloping her into a comforting bear hug.

She smelled of roses and something else, something softer, like warm fig.

God, how he loved this woman.

"Have you heard the news?" she asked, pulling herself out of his grasp, reaching into her oversized purse for her own copy of The Times_. Her face, which without makeup looked much younger than her 21 years of age, was filled with humor. "We're getting married!"_

Her voice was a childish squeal, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant. Someone across the room began to clap, and within seconds, the entire room was filled with raucous applause.

Tony, the Maitre d_ of a questionable heritage, came bustling over to their table, his face flush with excitement._

"Mister Crane! Miss Hernandez! This is pure excitement! The meal is on me! Oh, I must get you mimosa as well! Awe, young love. Makes the heart a twitter!"

Actually, what he said was:

"Meezter Crane! Meez Ear-nan-dez! Thee-se ees p-your ex-zite-a-mint! Zee meal ees on moi! Ooh, I muzt git you mee-mosa az well! Awe, young love. Makez zee heart a-tweeter!"

As Tony ran to the kitchen, flashbulbs began flashing in their direction from all corners of the room.

"Oh, my word!" Audrina whispered into Nicky's ear, her eyes growing wide with amazement. "They thought I was serious!"

When Tony rushed back with their mimosa's, Audrina winked at him as she took a sip. Nicky, however, downed his in a single swallow.

There was no way in hell this was going to turn out well.

The feeling of dread washed back over Fox, where it remained the rest of the day, into the evening and the following morning.

He did not hear from his grandfather the entire day, which was a bit unsettling.

He did not hear from anyone in his immediate family, with the exception of Fancy.

She was quite the rebel.

She wanted to offer congratulations on his upcoming nuptials, and to also thank him for (almost) stealing the thunder   
away from the"Gwethan" headline.

The snow started up just after noon, and did not let up the rest of the day. Soon, Central Park was powdered in nearly 12 inches of snow, but neither Nicholas nor Audrina had any idea. Once they finished their breakfast, they made their way back to their room, where Audrina quickly pounced on her new "fiancé".

"Engagement-sex-is-the-best!" she murmured through kisses, as they stumbled into the sitting room and onto the floor.

Nicholas pulled away from her, his eyes twinkling, though his feelings of worry were growing more intense by the minute.

"And you know this how?"

"That's just what I've heard." She yanked him back down to her, running her hands through his choppy spikes. "Don't hate the messenger."

He didn't want to worry Audrina, she was so innocent and naïve, so he held his tongue when she asked if he was alright, and took his time in undressing her, and prolonged his release during their lovemaking in front of the roaring fire.

He didn't know what might happen tomorrow. All he knew was at that moment, he needed her, needed to savor her, cherish her, to just be with her.

They spent the day in front of the fire, then moved to their bedroom in the evening. As midnight closed in on them, Audrina fell asleep in his arms, and shortly after, Nicholas followed suit.

He did not rest well though, and when the first streaks of daylight began to creep through the bedroom curtains, Nicholas gave up on sleep. Audrina was still sleeping soundly, so as gently as he could, he brushed his lips across her forehead as he pried her loose from his arms and then stumbled to the kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of Chex and brewed a pot of coffee, then walked to the glass wall which over looked Central Park. Children were running about, building snowmen and sledding, throwing snowballs and shrieking with laughter.

It brought a wistful smile to his face, though the dread was still nagging him.

After brushing his teeth, he threw on the clothes he had worn the day before, along with his ski jacket and scarf, and shoved his wallet into his pocket. He quickly scribbled a note for Audrina, then jumped into the elevator. He reached the first floor, then sprinted down the sidewalk to his newsstand, where Hakim was opening up shop.

He vaguely caught a glimpse of a car idling at the end of the street. Black, with tinted windows, it only caught his eye because all the other cars parked along the street had a foot of snow piled on their hoods.

But the car was quickly forgotten as he approached Hakim, whose face lit up when he saw him.

"Ah, Mr. Crane! You make the front page!"

Hakim handed Nicky a copy of Us Weekly_, where a photo of him and Ethan from last Christmas appeared with the headline "Double Engagement! Double Wedding?"_

Oh, shit.

"I had no idea you and Miss Hernandez were engaged! May I get your autograph?"

Nicholas dutifully scribbled his name across the tabloid, then flipped through it to the cover article. Nothing but a bunch of made up lies from unknown "sources", but there, on paper, was one of the photos that had been snapped the previous day. Audrina in no makeup, looking completely shocked that someone was taking her picture.

His own face marred with confusion as he glanced around the room. Looking for the culprits, wanting to take their cameras and smash them to pieces, to destroy all evidence that him and Audrina had dined there that day.

Hakim was oblivious to his disgust as he gave him a copy of the magazine for free, as well as The Times_. Apparently, his "engagement" was also mentioned on Page Six._

Damn Liz Smith. Damn the freaking paparazzi. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why couldn't he live his life in total anonymity? Was that asking for too damn much?

He was crafting a well- worded "fluck-You!" letter to the paparazzi in his mind when it happened.

First there was the squealing of tires, followed by an earth piercing scream and the thud of a body hitting metal. The car was silent for a split second, then its engine was revved before peeling out, down the street, into oblivion.

It was the black car from down the street.

Hakim jogged over to where he stood, visibly shaken, his face ashen.

But Nicholas could not move.

He knew it was her.

He knew from that piercing scream, so girly, so soft.

He knew the second he felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket... and the moment he saw the word Grandfather appear on his caller id.

He flipped open his phone, not able to greet his grandfather.

But Alistair Crane was more than chipper and talkative for him.

"Good morning, my boy. How is your new fiancée feeling this morning, Nicholas? Perhaps, shall we say, a bit torn up_ with joy?"_

Nicholas said nothing in reply as he finally worked up the nerve to walk towards the street. A small crowd was beginning to form outside, along the sidewalks, whispers of horror filling the air.

He ignored the looks of recognition that were shot in his direction as he raced into the street, where a tiny figure of a woman was sprawled in the most awkward angle.

Her almost black, slightly curly hair spread across her face, matted with blood.

Her bright brown eyes, so beautiful, yet so scared as they landed on his own.

"Nicky..." she whispered, her breathing labored as he kneeled beside her, his entire body trembling as he took her hand in his.

It was so cold.

The distant wail of a siren could be heard in the distance.

"Nicky, I love you. Do you love me?"

She was trying to be playful, but he could tell how it hurt her to speak.

"Sssh, my love. You know you are my one and only."

She tried to smile up at him as he brushed her matted hair from her face. And then suddenly, her eyes opened wide and a deep, shuddering breath overtook her entire body.

It was over in a fraction of a second. Nicholas could feel her body come to its final rest as he held her in his arms, his eyes disbelieving, tears coursing his face. He felt her soul leave her body, stopping only to take his heart with her.

And it was only after the paramedics and the coroner had declared her legally dead did Nicholas come to the realization of what had truly happened.

His Grandfather had killed his "fiancée."

For the sake of business, of money.

For his damn merger.

But that day, Alistair Crane also made a terrible mistake.

One that would come back to haunt him in the years that followed.

That day, he not only killed his grandson's "fiancée."

He also killed his grandson.

And after that day, no one ever heard from Nicholas Foxworth Crane again.


	7. No Turning Back

**Conundrum**: A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

**Chapter Six**: _No Turning Back_

Harmony was a close knit community whose residents' favorite pastime was to gossip, a fact Theresa had chosen to overlook when she made the decision to move back to her childhood home. Small towns such as Harmony are breeding grounds for the lies and jealousy that fuel gossip. Some of the gossip currently circulating Harmony's population was old, recycled: Crazy Old Tabitha was really a witch, and liked to cast spells on her innocent neighbors to make their lives miserable. Sam Bennett, the handsome Chief of Police, had long ago had a whirlwind affair with Ivy Crane, the icy _Grande Dame_ of Harmony's social elite. Martin Fitzgerald, patriarch of the Lopez-Fitzgerald clan, had not _really_ vanished off the face of the Earth, but had been brutally murdered by one of Alistair Crane's "associates" after finding out too much information about the inner dealings of Crane Industries.

Still, some of the current gossip was newer, fresher: tennis champion Whitney Russell had taken to wearing flowing tops this summer, perhaps to conceal a growing bump; could she possibly be pregnant before she was married? A blonde woman who looked suspiciously similar to Gwen Crane had been spotted several times over the course of the summer with a man who looked suspiciously nothing like her husband, Ethan, who had not been seen once in the years that he had left Harmony for LA.

Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, one time resident home-wrecker and tramp, had returned to town just over a month ago, and had already snagged herself the richest, most desired bachelor in Harmony, Nicholas "Fox" Foxworth.

Though she had done everything in her power to stay out of the limelight, there was something about Theresa that the gossipers loved. Luckily, Theresa had learned to turn a deaf ear to gossip over the years. She had learned that gossip, though it might start out with a grain of truth to it, almost always blossomed to an ugly, flat out lie. Gossip, in Theresa's opinion, was hurtful and hateful.

Gossip destroyed people.

Gossip had almost destroyed her.

If the people who wasted their days speculating and gossiping about her since her return to Harmony had actually cared enough to take the time to find out the truth about her relationship with Mr. Foxworth, this is what they would discover:

Every morning (well, at least Monday through Friday) at seven, she and Fox would meet up at the beach and go for a three mile run before heading to the Book Café for coffee and perhaps a croissant. They would discuss the latest news, politics, and occasionally, their views on religion. They would talk about the movie they had seen last night, the chances of the New England Patriots going undefeated this season, the merits of Egyptian cotton versus satin sheets, but rarely did their conversation get any more personal than that.

At least in the morning.

After going their separate ways, Theresa would head to her B&B, which was coming along beautifully. Usually, Fox would drop by during the day to help her and Fancy with the painting, to hang up pictures on the wall, or to just keep Theresa company. Sometimes, he stayed all day, sometimes, just an hour. But Theresa was grateful to him just the same.

In the evenings, they could usually be found at Fox's condo, tossing together an antipasto salad and sharing a bottle of wine. Occasionally, they were joined by Chad and Whitney, or Fancy, but more often than not it was just the two of them.

If the gossipers in question were _truly_ observant, they might catch a lingering glance between them, a wistful stare. They might take notice of how Theresa's expressive brown eyes lit up with pure happiness whenever Fox would enter the room, or how his would drop with unconcealed disappointment when she would tell him goodnight before heading to bed.

Alone.

At her place.

But those who gossip tend to only see the obvious. In doing so, they miss the subtle nuances of life, such as the way Theresa's cheeks would now flush a bright pink whenever her hand would casually graze his as she passed him a refill of his favorite cabernet, her fingers burning where her skin had brushed against his. They missed Fox's warm brown eyes lighting up as he watched Theresa perform the most mundane tasks of life, glowing with raw, unadulterated adoration.

The gossipers chose to see only what they wanted to see. They saw the girl who had so doggedly pursued Ethan Crane now pursuing another wealthy bachelor like the true gold-digger she was.

As usual, the gossipers had taken a small truth- because it was true that Theresa and Fox were falling in love, albeit unknowingly- and put their own darker, more sinister twist on it.

For whatever reason, those who gossip seem to get twisted pleasure out of spinning a web of deception.

Perhaps they found their own life to be lacking, unremarkable.

Dull.

Boring.

Or perhaps by gossiping, they were able to forget about their own sins, to find comfort in the knowledge that at least there was one person that they were truly "better" than, one person out there who had more skeletons in their closet then they.

In any event, the gossipers had gotten it wrong.

Theresa was not pursuing Fox.

He was not pursuing her.

Nothing more than a friendly kiss on the cheek had occurred between them in the two months she had been back in Harmony.

Nobody but themselves knew what went on between them behind closed doors.

People could waste their time speculating about the nature of their relationship, but the honest to God truth was that they were not together.

Well, at least not yet...

Theresa was starting to get frustrated. She had been in Harmony for nearly two months, and things were not going exactly as she planned.

She had planned on moving back to Harmony, getting her B&B ready to open, and enjoying a quiet, simple life with no distractions.

Theresa did not like distractions.

And right now, she was more than distracted.

Nicholas Foxworth had swept into her life and taken her by complete surprise. She had known, from their first conversation on the phone, that she would like him immensely. But she had no way of knowing, back then, that he was the type of person who would show up on her doorstep, unannounced, with not one, but ten bouquets of wildflowers that he had seen at a roadside stand and bought just because the colors reminded him of her. She had no way of knowing, back then, that he would remember some obscure conversation that they had had about poetry, and that her favorite poem was "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron, and that he would present her with the original manuscript, in a frame of antique gold, at her house warming party. She had no way of knowing, back then, that the mere mention of his name would cause her heart to race in her chest, her hands to turn clammy. Or that the mere sight of him would cause her breath to catch in her chest, her knees to go weak.

Back then, she had no way of knowing that she would fall in love with Nicholas Foxworth.

And that was the biggest distraction of all: being in love with an amazing man when she was quite unsure if she herself was ready to be loved.

"Fancy, has Fox ever been in love?"

She hadn't meant to ask the question, but it had been on her mind lately, and somehow, quite by accident, it had just slipped out.

It was the last Friday in August, and Harmony was teeming with tourists in town for the annual Harmony Regatta and Ball. Three days of sailing, carnival amusements, and elegant attire. The Regatta had always been one of Theresa's favorite things as a child, and now, as an adult, she found herself anticipating it more than she did back then.

So far, August had been a sweltering month, one of the hottest on record. It had been a month of dips in the ocean and frozen mojitos at the Seascape, a month of snow-cones on the pier and late night strolls on the beach.

August had been a month of change, the month Theresa had found herself finally letting go of the past and looking forward to her future.

And she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

It had been Fox's idea to run the registration table at the Regatta. Serve some pancakes to the participants, re-introduce herself to Harmony society, get the name of her B&B out to the public.

The name of her B&B had come to her one night when sleep wouldn't come.

Conundrum House.

She had always loved the word conundrum, how it was so fun to say, how the complex word was really so simplistic in meaning.

Conundrum. A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma.

How she loved that word. Until she realized that her life had become a conundrum from the second she laid eyes on Fox.

An exaggerated sigh from Fancy snapped Theresa out of her rambling thoughts.

"I was wondering when you might bring up this subject. I was kind of hoping for later rather than sooner, though."

Fancy flashed a fake smile at an elderly man, Mr. Wilcox, who was signing his grandson and friends up for the Regatta before returning her attention to Theresa. The registration booth had been a hit so far, and Fancy and Theresa had found that free pancakes and coffee drew more people to their booth than any other form of advertising ever could. They had received over 100 names and email addresses of people who wanted to know about the grand opening, and several people had actually booked rooms for later in the year.

"So, may I ask why you want to know? And why are you asking me, and not him?"

Theresa could feel Fancy's eagle sharp eyes boring down on her through her oversized Chanel glasses as she scooted her lawn chair into the shade of a pine tree. In the two months that they had known each other, Fancy had become a true confidante, and Theresa knew that her bluntness was not intended to harm, but was born out of true curiosity.

"It's, um, just something I've been wondering about. It's not something that that's easy to bring up in casual conversation, you know? I don't want to pry information out of him, but I just, I really haven't learned too much about him and I guess I'd like to know more about him."

Fancy's face softened at Theresa's honest reply. Wiping her brow, she lifted her sunglasses onto her head, like a headband, and smiled at her friend.

"Touché, T. And Fox isn't exactly forthcoming about his personal life is he?"

She thought for a moment about what to say next, carefully formulating the words in her mind rather than just blurting them out in true Fancy behavior.

"Okay, so I'll give you the short answer: Yes, Foxy has been in love before. He's actually been in love twice. But if you want the dark and dirty details, you'll have to ask him about. It's just not my place to tell."

This was the first time that Theresa had asked Fancy about Fox and his life, and it left her feeling a little unnerved. She knew her face always betrayed her true emotions, so it was no surprise to her when Fancy continued, "Give Fox a chance, Theresa. When he's ready, he'll open up to you and tell you about his past... and what he is feeling. He's definitely worth the wait. And I've never been one to advocate my friends taking an interest in him, so believe me when I tell you that you are the first girl that I've ever told any of this to."

With those words she pushed her glasses back down onto her face and beamed at Mr. Wilcox's grandson. Handing him a plate of pancakes she said, "Good luck, babe. Don't wreck your boat."

Several hours later, Theresa found herself shrieking with laughter as Fox pulled her towards the fortune teller's booth, trying to ignore the goose bumps that shot up her arms when he intertwined her hands with his.

"Fox, I _hate_ fortune tellers!" she gasped as they came to a halt before the red and yellow tent. He gently released her hands and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me, Tiger? I thought this would be right up your alley, with you being a complete control freak and all."

As usual, his eyes twinkled with humor as he gazed down at her.

Theresa gasped with indignation, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"You did _not_ just say that."

Her lower lip twitching with laughter gave away the fact that she wasn't truly angry with him, and he took full advantage of that knowledge, enjoying the game that the two of them always played.

"Okay, then. You're not a control freak. Happy, kiddo?"

Theresa simpered up at him, playfully, her doe eyes in full puppy dog mode.

"But, I do think maybe you're scared. Scared of a batty little old lady telling you truths that perhaps you don't want to know?"

That observation hit a little too close to home. She quickly diverted her gaze and stepped away from the entrance to the tent, crossing her arms over her chest to ease the chill that had just overtaken her body.

Long ago, she had visited this same booth and heard the one thing she had longed for so long to hear: that one day, she would be Mrs. Crane. At first, she had not believed the fortune teller, but then the old lady began describing Theresa's bedroom to her, divulging facts about her that not even Whitney, Theresa's best friend, knew. Of course, the old woman's ramblings turned out to be a complete fabrication, but still, to do this, fortune tellers creeped Theresa out like nothing else.

"So, Tiger, is that it? You're chicken?"

But, Theresa had never been one to resist a dare, so she turned on her heal and shot Fox what she hoped was a charming smile.

"You suck, Foxworth. Let's go."

This time, she grabbed his hands in hers and pulled him through the entrance, ignoring how his body shook as he tried to conceal his laughter. His shaking abruptly stopped as they entered the tent, both of them taken over by a heady scent that smelled to Theresa like fresh pine and clean cotton, to Fox like warm vanilla and jasmine.

The tent was cool and dark, with velvet curtains of indigo and raspberry draped haphazardly around the room. Plush pillows lay on the floor before a small table with a crystal ball placed in the center. Behind the table, with long, weathered fingers grasping the ball, sat an old lady, an unkindly sneer upon her distorted face.

"Come in, my lovelies, come in," she beckoned with a croak, motioning them to sit on the floor. Fox looked at Theresa with uncertainty, and she nodded in response, indicating that they should sit down.

"I was wondering when you might come to see me, Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald," the lady continued as they settled down onto the pillows. "Although, I must say, I'm a bit surprised, as well. Did I not tell you your fortune before? Was it not to your liking? Was there something about finding out that you would become Mrs. Crane that did not satisfy you? Or were you perhaps wondering if somehow, your fortune had changed?"

Theresa's face turned an ashen white as the color slowly drained from her cheeks, her eyes transfixed on the crystal ball. The tent, so cool before, was suddenly stuffy, stifling hot. Beside her, Fox's sharp intake of breath went unnoticed as he too sat there, mesmerized by the glowing orb.

The old woman let out a laugh, but it was a laugh that could only be described as a cackle.

"Yes, Theresa. I remember you. I remember your face lighting up with hope at my words, and how hard you struggled against believing me! It took you two visits to see me before you realized that I spoke the truth. And here we are, seven years later, face to face. Why are you here today, Theresa?"

Theresa found it hard to speak, to form the words she so desperately wanted to say. The perfume was intoxicating: it was almost like it had induced a trance over her.

"You were wrong. Theresa will never become Mrs. Crane."

Fox finally was able to speak, his words in defense of Theresa.

The lady cackled again, turning her attention towards him, seeing him for the first time.

"Aw, Nicholas Foxworth. Always the eternal optimist. Yes, I know who you are my dear, and I also remember telling you your fortune that same year at that same carnival. You and your little friends laughed at me, but I remember what I told you, because I chose my wording so carefully. _You will only find true love_-"

"_Within utter agony_. Yup, I remember too, you old bat."

Fox had fully regained his senses, and was not amused.

"I never liked that fortune. Seemed a bit... melodramatic for my tastes."

His tone, though light, held a sharpness that Theresa had never heard before, and there was something in it that roused her from her reverie.

"I spoke the truth." The old lady repeated her previous statement, no longer cackling, her lips in a tight line as she appraised the two of them. "And I still do.

"Theresa, one day you _will_ be Mrs. Crane. And Mr. Foxworth...only with agony will you find true love. Wasn't I right? Wasn't love agony in the end?"

"Enough. Theresa, let's go. You were quite right to not want to come in here."

He reached down, and gently lifted Theresa to her feet, his arms around her waist as he led her to the exit. They were almost out before Theresa turned to face the old lady one last time.

"You are a horrible person. You do not speak the truth; you speak lies. You must be truly miserable to inflict pain on others how you have today."

And with that Theresa and Fox exited the tent, his arms still wrapped tightly around her as they were greeted by the harsh sunlight.

Silently, he released her and they walked down to the beach, not speaking a word until they were completely alone. He helped her down onto the warm sand before sitting down beside her, his eyes distant and slightly hurt.

"Fox, why are the ghosts of my past following me?"

He looked over at her, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"Why do the ghosts follow anybody?" he replied, running his fingers through the sand, tracing small circles in the grains.

Silence overtook them once more, the sounds of the carnival now drowned out by the high tide gently rolling on shore. At sea, the sailboats dotted the horizon, preparing for the Regatta, making one last trial before the race the following morning.

After a while, Theresa turned to him, pulled him to her in a lopsided hug. He gazed down at her, pushing a stray curl from her forehead.

"Has anyone told you, Ms. Lopez-Fitzgerald," his voices a hoarse whisper," That you have the most amazing eyes?"

"No in a very long time," she answered, her voice as equally as soft and hoarse as his.

Never breaking eye contact, Fox gently tucked another stray curl behind her ear, causing tiny tremors to shoot through her being as his thumb grazed her cheek.

Not since Ethan had she been touched so tenderly. Not since Ethan had she _allowed_ anyone to get this close to her, to touch her this way. She knew she should pull away, to put a stop to this madness that was threatening to take her over, but she couldn't.

It just felt too _right_.

"Well, they are. Amazing. And you need someone to tell you that every day that you live, so that you don't forget."

His thumb had not left her cheek, and was softly, ever so achingly softly, tracing the curve of her jawbone.

"Your eyes are like a kaleidoscope." His voice was softer than before, more ragged. The space between them had closed somewhat, as if their two bodies were drawn together, magically, magnetically.

And still, his hand remained on her cheek.

"Like a kaleidoscope? How?" she managed to murmur in response, her eyes feeling heavy as she looked into his. Her chest was heaving deeply, breathlessly, and she knew at that moment that she was lost. Nobody- not even Ethan- had ever had this kind of effect over her.

"They're so expressive. A kaleidoscope is constantly in motion, the image always changing, moment to moment. The basic colors and design are always present, but the pattern is never the same.

"I see that in your eyes, Theresa. They're the window to your soul. I always see hope in your eyes, and I am thinking right now, a little bit of lust?"

With that, Theresa raised her hand to slap his chest, but before she could ruin the moment, Fox caught it in his, bringing her arm down, settling it between them on the warm sand, fingers laced together.

"Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of anger, maybe some resentment. But always, Theresa, I see hope."

"And you see all this how?"

Still holding her hand, his thumb now tracing tiny on her palm, Fox inched closer to her, closing the remaining space between them.

"It's not how I see it all, Theresa, it's _why_."

Feeling his warm breath on her cheek as he pulled her ever closer, if that was even possible, Theresa suddenly jumped up, a shaky laugh trying to conceal her true feelings.

"Oh, no you don't, Casanova," she said, taunting, still feeling quite breathless. Her cheeks were warm and flushed, but somehow, she managed to regain herself, to put an end to the insanity.

"I'm no Casanova," he responded, standing up, towering over her. "No matter what Fancy might say, I'm nothing of a heartbreaker. I just want you to know that."

His gaze was now pleading. As she looked up at him, heart still pounding in her chest, Theresa knew that he was being honest with her. She smiled at him, a true smile, trying to reign in her emotions.

"I believe you," she finally whispered, and after what felt like an eternity, he grinned back at her.

"Theresa...would you like to come to the ball with me tomorrow? Like, as my date?"

And before she could listen to her head, she listened to her heart. A voice answered for her, a voice that was strangely detached from her body. She heard the voice answer, "Yes, Fox. I would love to be your date tomorrow."

And she knew, at that moment, that there was no turning back.


End file.
